


Superfluous data

by Ronile



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 19:57:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8681407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronile/pseuds/Ronile
Summary: Sherlock finds out that Mycroft and Greg are dating. He is not amused.





	

Greg Lestrade ducked under the barrier tape and pulled the now filthy latex gloves from his hands. As murder scenes went, this was certainly one of the least pleasant he had been lucky enough to witness. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of clean air. Just five minutes away from Sherlock, that was all he needed, and then he would go back. It wasn't as if the man would even notice he was gone.

He opened his eyes in time to see a large black car pull up across the road. Out of the back door stepped a man with the ability to make this day infinitely both better and worse at the same time. Mycroft smiled as he caught Greg's eye. That was a good sign, a sign that he wasn't here to inform them that this case was somehow vital to the security of the realm, and Greg was required to vacate the premises immediately and sit through a four-hour debriefing where he tried to remember the exact shade of the wallpaper in the under-stairs cupboard. He didn't think he could deal with that today.

“What are you doing here?” Sherlock's unmistakable voice came from behind him. Of course, the man had extra-sensory perception where his brother was involved.

Pointedly ignoring him Mycroft turned to Greg and handed him a folder. “I believe this will help with the case.”

Before he could open it Sherlock had snatched it from his hands. “The 2016 oak furniture catalogue? Is this some sort of joke Mycroft?”

“Not in the slightest. Now why don't you go and read that quietly and let the grown-ups talk.”

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously. “What could you possibly have to talk to _him_ about.” Greg tried not to be too offended, it wasn't worth it.

“Not that it's any of your business, but I was wondering if Gregory would like to join me for dinner?”

“Sure. We're nearly finished here. Let me just...”

“ _Gregory_. When did _h_ e become _Gregory_?” Sherlock interrupted him.

Mycroft sighed. “Oh I don't know Sherlock. Perhaps when we started dating, about three months ago.”

Sherlock looked rapidly from Mycroft to Greg and back again. “No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I said no. You.” he pointed an accusatory finger at Greg, “are supposed to be straight.”

“Hang on...”

“And you,” he turned the finger on Mycroft, “are _my brother._ ”

“You do realise that doesn't exclude the possibility of my forming additional relationships.”

“It doesn't make any sense. I thought you weren't interested in goldfish.”

“I could say the same about you. And yet here he is.” Replied Mycroft.

“That's different. John and I aren't...”

“Aren't what?” The man in question had joined them.

Sherlock waved his hands. “ _That_. Whatever it is they're doing.”

John looked from Greg and Mycroft back to Sherlock. “You didn't know about them?”

“You _did_?”

John shrugged. “It was pretty obvious.”

“No. It was not. Because it makes _absolutely no sense_.” Replied Sherlock, now looking very agitated.

“Are you saying I made a deduction that escaped the great Sherlock Holmes?” John looked gleeful.

“No. I refuse to accept this. Clearly the three of you have been exposed to a hallucinatory drug.” He sniffed the air. “That would explain the sawdust under the victim's fingernails.”

Mycroft sighed. “And how did you avoid becoming exposed to this supposed drug that the rest of us are suffering under?” he turned back to Greg. “You'll find that the murderer was a carpenter.”

John looked confused. “If the murderer is a carpenter then why is the sawdust under the victim's fingernails?”

Mycroft shrugged. “You're the master detective. I'm sure you can figure it out. Now I really must be going, unfortunately the situation in Morocco is developing faster than we foresaw. I'll send a car at seven Gregory.”

“Great. You know I'm never sure if you're being serious when you say things like that.”

“Am I ever otherwise?”

“Of course not. I'll see you later.”

Mycroft nodded and turned to leave. Suddenly there was a shout from Sherlock. “Of course! The boiler!” He sprinted back towards the crime scene.

Greg watched him go. “He's already deleted it again hasn't he.”

“Naturally.” Replied Mycroft. “Don't take it personally. He'll come to terms with the idea eventually.”

“I suppose so.” Greg grinned. “Still, just think of the fun we can have in the meantime.” 


End file.
